


Notes and Petals.

by SharpEyedJay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Falling In Love, M/M, Musician!Kyoutani, Shopkeeper!Yahaba, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpEyedJay/pseuds/SharpEyedJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deep sigh, a light breeze, the smell of mint and jasmine that created an odd, yet pleasant combination, and the quiet ‘snap’ sound that signaled that the glass door was now unlocked and people could enter.<br/>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>In which Yahaba Shigeru is a small flower shop owner, who's having a bit of trouble with a young street musician.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soo it's 12:00AM and I'm very sleepy, so again, this probably sucks.  
> I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but probably (Hopefully) not too long.  
> I'm a big fan of flower shop AUs, and I saw a really cute fanart of one and decided why not write about it, because I am trash.   
> But yeah uh- Enjoy?  
> ((Please Note: I don't proofread my work, because if I do, I always try to re-write it to 'make it better', and end up growing tired of it and throwing it away. As such, there may be grammatical errors, and I do apologize for them, however there is no way for me to fix them, if I try to, I will end up throwing the whole work away)).

A deep sigh, a light breeze, the smell of mint and jasmine that created an odd, yet pleasant combination, and the quiet ‘snap’ sound that signaled that the glass door was now unlocked and people could enter.

These were the things that started out each and every morning, and usually what ended each and every night, as well. Not a lot changed and not a lot differed, and even if it did, each morning and night mirrored the last, and it was stable, it was collected, it was safe, it was nice, and Yahaba liked it that way.

That particular day, however, started out a little different. As soon as he pulled the door open to get a quick breath of fresh air to start the day (As much as he liked the comfort of his tiny shop and the smell of flowers, he needed to go outside every once in a while, so as to not suffocate), he heard quiet, acoustic guitar music. He spotted something in the corner of his eye and turned his head, only to see something that he’s never seen before.

A young man was sitting right next to his store, legs crossed, with a large guitar between them. He was quietly tuning it, occasionally hitting the strings to make a quiet and (admittedly) pleasant sound. He looked as if he was in a gang, with ripped jeans, a big, baggy jacket over a large shirt, short-cropped hair and eyes that seemed to be a combination of ‘I don’t know how much guyliner is appropriate to use in a public setting’ and ‘I need about 25 more cups of coffee before you can even say hello to me’, what with the dark undertone of them.

He was certainly new, Yahaba had never seen him before, and frankly he didn’t feel like he wanted to. He opened his mouth to say something, primarily to question the other’s actions, but was quickly silenced when the stranger finally noticed him and turned his head to look at him. They shared eye contact, and Yahaba almost shuddered. Something about those eyes was absolutely terrifying, though his expression was more calm and curious; his brown eyes portrayed a fierce fire and energy. Something about those eyes made Shigeru want to just walk away and mind his own business and never disturb this creepy stranger, which is sort of what he planned to do, but not after putting on an irritated look and huffing. 

He walked back into his little shop and sat down by the counter, folding his arms on the table and putting his head in them. Having a street musician outside his shop couldn’t be a bad thing, right? Perhaps it would bring in a little more traffic to the shop, even if the musician himself looked like a Barbie doll went punk. 

At first, it really wasn’t bad. The music was relatively calm and quiet, relaxing, even, and the musician really could have been worse at both singing and playing.

(Well, that was a lie, the truth was that he was pretty amazing at both.)

(Yahaba never thought that a pitch so high could come out of someone so rough-looking. Life sure is incredible.)

And it did bring in a bit more traffic than usual- in fact one customer, a short girl with light-brown hair, came in specifically to buy a single red rose and then went out to drop it into the case in which the musician was gathering money. 

However, all good things must come to an end and so did the peace and quiet the boy had been enjoying for about a year now, ever since he opened his shop.

Eventually the slow, sweet little love songs changed abruptly into rock and pop songs. First it was Pink Floyd, which wasn’t that bad, and then the numerous songs from Queen and The Beatles poured in, and Yahaba was honestly surprised as to how many people actually knew the lyrics to ‘We Will Rock You’ and were willing to stand outside an innocent flower shop and screech it on top of their lungs whilst clapping their hands and stomping their feet, not only butchering a great song but also disturbing any semblance of peace that the shopkeeper once had.

On the upside of things, what with the energetic songs playing outside, the day went by rather quickly and it wasn’t long before Yahaba performed his little closing ritual.

A deep sigh, a light breeze, the smell of mint and jasmine that created an odd, yet pleasant combination, and the quiet ‘snap’ of the lock, this time interrupted by the sound of guitar strings and loud conversations and compliments addressed at the Barbie-doll looking musician.

Yahaba leaned against the glass door, waiting for the people to clear out. Business-wise the day was average, but the obnoxious sound of several dozen people singing together had just ruined his day, and as much as he didn’t want whatever gang of druggie’s this guy may or may not have been from hanging out outside of his shop waiting for him to come out with a baseball bat, he felt like he had to take a stand and do something.

Once everyone left and the stranger finished packing, he put his guitar over his shoulders and looked up, noticing that she shopkeeper was still standing there, glaring at him and, unfazed by the angry expression the man was giving him, glared right back.

The staring contest went on for a few seconds, maybe a minute, as neither of them said anything. The intensity in the stranger’s eyes seemed to have died down a little since the morning, most likely because he was tired now, but he still looked more than capable of beating anyone that stood in his path down with minimal effort. 

Finally, unwilling to take this fake mental-fight he seemed to have found himself locked in, Yahaba spoke up.

“Excuse me, but I would much appreciate it if you moved somewhere else. You’re hindering my business,” he spoke quickly, politely, but bluntly. His words were innocent enough but they were definitely laced to the brim with passive-aggression. 

“Sorry,” the other man spoke in a not-so-surprisingly deep, growly voice (Although given how sweet and smooth it sounded when he sang, perhaps it was a surprise), “’Been tryin’a find a good spot for a while now and I think this one’s the best ‘round, so I’m gonna have to stay a while,” he spoke easily, as if he didn’t give a single shit about the other man’s business, which, actually, very well may have been the case. Something flashed in his eyes for a second, a sign of hostility that made Yahaba both irritated and inditimated at the same time. On the one hand the man really did look dangerous, but on the other, he was clearly just trying to scare the shopkeeper out of the conversation so that he didn’t have to move.

“…In that case, at least try to keep it down, if you would,” Yahaba responded, deliberately trying to make his every word sound forceful and hateful, but sadly not getting any reaction but a curt nod from the musician.

They stared at each-other again, this time for a shorter period of time, until both moved at the same time, turning back-to-back, each walking in an opposite direction, ready to meet and possibly bicker again the next day.

For the first time in a while, the morning and the night were different than the ones in the days before. Yahaba knew it wasn’t a good sign.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Welp, sorry for the long wait, but here's the second chapter!  
>  ((Honestly I think this one is worse than the first one but... Hey I tried)).

Every day was different for Kiyotani. Every day he saw different people, played different songs, did different things.

But every day ended more-or-less the same. Walking through the cool air, humming to himself, pocket full of coins, shoulders heavy from the weight of the guitar, heart light with happiness and bag full of meat-based products, which were a dinner for both him and basically every stray dog within a 50-mile-radius from his crappy little apartment.

Though, this time around something was a little odd. Sure, he got a lot of praise that day (in fact one girl even gave him a rose. How sweet.), and he was quite happy with himself and his performance, and yet-

Not everyone was always happy with his music. This, he knew. He got judgmental stares all the time, though that may have been due to his looks more so than his voice. But people usually kept their distance and their mouths shut, so this was the first time in a while that someone had called him out on the noise he’d made. 

For a moment he considered moving. His actions weren’t illegal by any means, but he was technically still on the other man’s property. It was kind of a dick move to stick around after being asked so politely to leave, especially if he was hurting someone’s business. Plus the shopkeeper seemed rather upset.

(Some part of Kiyotani wondered if it was the face of the shopkeeper that made him want to move, what with the large eyes and chubby cheeks and fluffy brown hair. But it couldn’t have been that, right?)

But on the other hand, why should he give a shit. The audience liked him, in fact his earnings there far surpassed what he had earned per day in weeks, now. The spot was nice and cozy and the flower shop certainly had a nice smell, too, unlike most other places he stayed. And why should earning money for himself be considered a dick move?

‘It shouldn’t, that’s the answer’, he told himself as he made his way up the stairs that lead to his apartment. 

\--  
The following morning Kiyotani followed the path he took the day before, walking slowly and lazily in no particular rush. It was still early and the air was still chilly, but some uneasy feeling made him stay up basically all night, and he wasn’t feeling sleepy in the slightest.

He approached the little shop, wondering if the owner was already there and how he would react to the fact that Kiyotani was back. 

He opened the guitar case, taking out his precious instrument carefully (It was pretty much the only thing in life he handled with gently and carefully, instead of harshly), before laying the open case down on the ground in front of him for people to put money in.

For one reason or the other, Kentarou felt energetic that day. Instead of starting the day slowly like he usually did (mostly because he was tired in the mornings), he started strumming the strings quickly, without much of a pattern, trying to figure out which song to play. Eventually he closed his eyes and started playing ‘Twist and Shout’ by The Beatles, though for what reason, he didn’t know.

Like the day before, people noticed him quickly, giving him money and compliments, some even stopping to sing along. He alternated between songs quickly, choosing only the most energetic ones he knew, though way, he couldn’t quite tell, and sung particularly loudly, though that he could attribute to the desire to have more people hear his voice.

Occasionally, between songs while he was taking deep breaths to calm down, his eyes would wander and look through the glass into the flower shop, only to catch eyes with the annoyed owner, who, so far, didn’t look like he had much to say, but certainly didn’t look very happy with him, either. 

He finished the day off by singing Queen’s ‘We Are the Champions’, and given the popularity of the song, it was no surprise that a bunch of people joined in. Once he finished up, he quietly put all the money he’d earned into his pocket, occasionally giving out disinterested ‘Thank You’s’ to the people who decided to compliment him.

He put his guitar away carefully again, closing the case. He was sitting with his back to the flower shop, and for some reason, he could feel his heart beating quicker than usual. Maybe it was annoyance. Maybe he could already feel that the shop keeper would pester him, and his body was getting him ready for a fight. Yeah. That was it.

He stood up and swinged his instrument over his shoulders, feeling a presence behind himself. He turned quickly and, lo and behold, there stood the shop keeper, arms crossed, looking particularly angry.

They stared at each-other like they had the day before. The big, round eyes of the other man trying to look tough and angry, but to Kiyotani, they looked more like the eyes of a lost dog than the eyes of someone who was about to beat him up, and it was as if he could sense the fact that the other was at least slightly scared of him.

(Kiyotani could sense fear easily.)

(When you get into fights basically every other day, you tend to notice things like that.)

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” The other man’s voice broke the silence, and for some reason, Kentarou could feel his heart skip a beat. For some reason, despite being annoyed at the words, he felt pleased.

“Nope,” The musician replied casually, breaking eye contact to study the rest of the other’s body.

“And you’re not planning on getting any quieter, I take it?” The Shopkeeper asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement, as if he already knew the answer.

“Nah,” Kentarou shrugged calmly.

A sigh came from the other before he spoke again. “Fine, then. I suppose I’ll have to find a way to re-claim my business some other way, since you refuse to co-operate,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to force himself to calm down.

Nothing else was said as they stared at each other, before turning around, just like they had the day before, walking away.  
It was annoying to have someone on his tail like that, trying to get him to leave and being passive-aggressive towards him instead of actually trying to kick him out or something. 

It hadn’t happened before and it was frustrating.

…So then why did Kiyotani feel kind of happy that the man paid him attention?

…It was probably the fact that he liked bickering and fighting…

Yeah.

That had to be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO  
> I don't know why I decided that Kiyotani is oblivious to his crushes, but loves to get attention from them despite having no idea how to, hence him purposefully annoying people to get them to pay attention to him without even realizing but... Um... It's a thing now. Apparently.  
> Also I don't know when I'm gonna write the next chapter- I should be free for the whole August now though so hopefully pretty soon.  
> Thanks for reading! ^^  
> Feedback is very much appreciated, especially on the characterizations because I'm terrible at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy soo thanks for reading. The next chapter should be up- Um, I'm not sure when, I'll try for tomorrow, but I don't know, we'll see.  
> But yeah, all feedback is appreciated, let me know if I managed to fuck something up, and again, thanks.   
> ((Please Note: I don't proofread my work, because if I do, I always try to re-write it to 'make it better', and end up growing tired of it and throwing it away. As such, there may be grammatical errors, and I do apologize for them, however there is no way for me to fix them, if I try to, I will end up throwing the whole work away)).


End file.
